


Come to make me pay

by Esinde Nayrall (red_squared)



Series: Into Temptation [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: reversathon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-17
Updated: 2006-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-09 19:05:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/90554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_squared/pseuds/Esinde%20Nayrall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh, well, if it comes to that, Malfoy…" Sirius says, his lips curving into a genuine smile now, "I thought you'd know by now that I'm rather fond of you."</p><p><strong>The Request</strong>:  <span class="small">Sirius/Lucius, either alone or in a threesome/foursome as long as it has a Lucius/Sirius clash at the core, with Lucius putting Sirius (and/or Remus) under pressure. Blackmail, mindgames, politics, war, dub-con or non-con would be fine. High rating would be nice, but plot is more important. I have a small preference for pre-Azkaban or Sirius' late schoolyears, and a serious dislike for puppyfluff and S/R romance.</span></p>
            </blockquote>





	Come to make me pay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kennahijja (Hijja)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hijja/gifts).



> I can't thank my betas enough, and I am indebted to both of them ([](http://fleshdress.livejournal.com/profile)[**fleshdress**](http://fleshdress.livejournal.com/) and [](http://secondsilk.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://secondsilk.livejournal.com/)**secondsilk**) for their assistance with several aspects of this fic.
> 
> Written for [](http://reversathon.livejournal.com/profile)[**reversathon**](http://reversathon.livejournal.com/) and originally posted [here](http://reversathon.livejournal.com/83584.html).

_I will play you like a shark_  
_ And I'll clutch at your heart_  
_ I'll come flying like a spark_  
_ To enflame you_

("Pineapple Head" -- From Crowded House's "Together Alone")

~~*~~ 

It's only been an hour, and already he's sick of having to listen to everybody's murmured comments of sympathy or commiseration. Most of them didn't bother to attend the funeral. A handful of them – a _large _handful of them – didn't even bother to reply to their invitations to the funeral.

_Probably surprised to see me here._ He's surprised himself, come to that. It was only four days ago that he received the invitation – two days after the funeral. Worse, he _knows_ that it's come at the last minute, because the RSVP date written at the bottom of the scroll was for a week before he even received the invitation. _I wonder who dropped out at the last minute…_

Odd as it is, the murmured comments from the sympathetic are even worse than the way in which the not-so-subtle snicker at him, or the way in which the not-at-all-subtle simply turn away from him, as though his misfortune may be catching.

He's almost relieved when he sees the Blacks finally make their entrance. As the pre-eminent family in Britain – and most of Europe, for that matter – they are always the last to arrive, once they can be certain that all of their underlings are correctly assembled and in place.

_Speaking of underlings…_

The Mulcibers have barely finished welcoming the new arrivals when the Lestrange brothers start towards the Blacks. Five of the Blacks – one of them must be Cassiopeia, and two of the others are probably Sirius and Regulus – break away and make their way towards the parlour, where the women and children are gathered. From this distance, he can't tell if either of the other two is Andromeda – it's been years since he last saw her.

The Lestranges , however, are undaunted, subtly pushing past the Mulcibers and addressing themselves to Antares Black. He can't hear a word they're saying, but he's certain that the Lestranges are keen to speak with Black about Andromeda. He's fairly sure he knows how the conversation will go – Andromeda will be twenty-three this year, it's high time she were married, and so on.

It's sheer greed, really. The Lestrange's standing has already improved considerably since the older of the two brothers wed Bellatrix Black. There's no reason for the younger to seek a bride from the same house – no reason other than _greed_. He tells himself, as he walks towards them, that it has nothing to do with the fact that _he_ was once almost betrothed to Andromeda.

Unfortunately, he's not the only one who wants to speak with Black. There are at least a dozen others moving in the same direction, and not one of them is from a family he can afford to offend – Father has done enough of that for the both of them, and he now has many, _many_ bridges to mend.

"…perhaps after the meal," he can hear Rodolphus saying as he gets closer. "Rabastan was looking forward to meeting your niece, and…"

He clenches his teeth and rolls his eyes inwardly, as someone edges him out of the way. Stepping quickly to keep his balance, he notices a flash of something out of the corner of his eye, and when he looks up to see what it is, he spots Sirius Black disappearing around a corner.

"Lucius," Goyle starts to say, as he enters the corridor. "I just wanted to say how sorry I was to hear that -"

"Get out of my way!" he snaps, swerving past. There are many people he cannot afford to offend, but he takes full advantage of those that he can. Particularly since he's now lost sight of Sirius.

He only managed a brief glimpse of Sirius, but he's certain the boy was still wearing his cloak. More importantly, he's even more certain that Sirius had the rest of his party's cloaks draped over one arm, and _that_ can only mean that he's going to leave them in the care of the Mulciber's elves.

Racing towards the cloakroom, he gets there in time to see Sirius fussily tucking his gloves into a pocket in his cloak before handing the garment over. He wishes he were tall enough to loom over the younger boy. Nevertheless, Sirius gives a shocked little flinch when he turns around, before gathering himself and raising a single eyebrow.

"Simply enjoying the view," he says in reply to the unspoken query. "There's no need to stop on my account. Please, continue."

"Continue?" Sirius asks, amusement in his voice.

"You removed your gloves, and your cloak…" he says, smiling and moving closer. "Those dress robes are very nice, but I wouldn't be sorry to see them go the same way."

"Oh, that sounds like fun," Sirius laughs, and while he's not coming forward to meet Lucius, he's not backing away either. "But Father will start to wonder where I've got to."

"Expecting you back, is he?" This is new information. Sirius isn't of age yet, and by rights should be joining his mother and his younger brother to congregate with the other women and children before the meal is served. "It'll be a while before he comes searching. There are so _many_ people who want to speak with him."

"And nobody who wants to speak with me, is that what you're saying?" Sirius asks, with another crinkly-eyed smile.

"_I_ want to speak with you," he points out reasonably.

The elves are no longer present, and won't return until later in the evening. Nobody would be so ill-mannered as to leave this soon after the Blacks have arrived.

_We should be safe for at least another ten minutes_, he decides, closing the distance between them.

"I was hoping to do rather a lot more with you, actually," he continues, starting to undo Sirius' dress robes for him. Leaning forward, he kisses Sirius' mouth, swallowing the startled squeak that Sirius always makes when Lucius takes him by surprise.

"Listen…" Sirius says, as he pulls away. "I heard the news about your father. I didn't think… He was much too young."

"He was never going to get better," he says bitterly.

"I suppose you must be relieved," Sirius suggests gently.

Relieved, yes. That's the word for it. Not sorry, not hard done by, not devastated. Merely _relieved._

Father'd been ill for months before he finally passed, but he'd been incapacitated since nearly four months ago. There were so many things that needed to be done, things that _couldn't_ be done unless father initiated or approved them. And it wasn't as though he'd ever have got any better – dragon pox didn't normally strike people that young, but it had been just as lethal for father as it would have been for a much older man.

"Yes, it's much better this way," he agrees.

"I didn't mean it like that," Sirius says quickly, reaching out to touch his arm.

"No, but _I_ did. It was embarrassing to be his son. Nobody wanted anything to do with him, and I can hardly blame them. He was so angry and bitter… Always brooding over the things he was owed, the things he never got. He probably didn't even deserve half of -"

"Lucius," Sirius says, looking at him in alarm. "He was your _father_."

"Oh, you're a fine one to talk. You hated him more than -"

"I barely knew him!" Sirius says, taken aback.

"I didn't mean you, I meant your family," he clarifies irritably. "I don't know what he did to offend you, but - "

"Lucius…"

"I don't know what he did to offend _your family_, but the way we've been treated these last few years – not just by your family, but by every sycophantic hanger-on who wants to amuse your father, which, by the way, is _every_body –"

"_Lucius_," Sirius says sharply. Sirius says outrageous things about his own family, but he has little tolerance for hearing those sorts of things come from the mouths of others.

"It's like the exile is finally over," he says, getting to the point. "I don't know if I was invited tonight because somebody else dropped out at the last minute, or because I'm being told 'We know you're not your father. Everything's all right, you can rejoin polite society once more, because _you_ know what constitutes acceptable behaviour'. I'm not happy he's dead, but he would never have got better, and… Things might actually be better now, since I don't have to worry about him embarrassing me in front of other people anymore."

"You care too much about what other people think," Sirius tells him.

"So I should be more like you, and not care at all?" he asks, not in the mood for Sirius' advice.

"If I cared what people thought about me, I wouldn't be speaking to you," Sirius points out with a smile.

There is too much truth in that statement for it not to hurt, and he finds himself snapping, "I'll not be spoken to like that," in anger.

Sirius stares at him for a moment, his expression revealing none of his thoughts. "Fine, then," he says at last. "You'll not be spoken to at all."

He realises that he's gone too far. Sirius may be much less caught up in propriety and form than the other Blacks, but that doesn't mean he'll put up with Lucius' taking his forbearance for granted.

"Sirius, wait," he starts to say, moving to block him from leaving. As an apology, as an attempt to keep Sirius from leaving, he snatches at the other boy, twists him around and kisses him on the mouth again. Sirius twines his fingers through Lucius' hair and pulls him closer, kissing back fiercely.

"You needn't speak as long as you let me do that," he says, allowing himself to smile when Sirius grins.

"Go back to what you were doing before," Sirius commands.

"The kissing or the undressing?"

"Either. Both. Hurry up, I haven't all bloody night, someone'll come looking for me soo- _mmph_."

He works his hands between their bodies and continues to undo Sirius' dress robes, while Sirius tries to do the same to his own, but their arms entangle and then they're not close enough to kiss anymore, so he abandons his efforts to disrobe Sirius in favour of more kissing.

"Oh yes, just like that," Sirius gasps, as a row of fastenings comes undone and his robe falls open. "Who're you here with?" Sirius asks, pulling away for a moment to catch his breath and taking the opportunity to undo more of Lucius' robes.

"Nobody," he says honestly, impatiently tugging his robes open. "Nobody to notice if I'm not at the table for dinner," – which is not _quite_ true, since if he's not at his appointed seat at the appointed time, the Mulcibers suspect that he's wandered off to steal their silver – "or if I'm late coming home."

"I'll have to go back soon," Sirius says urgently, pressing close for another kiss.

He wishes he hadn't brought it up at all, but despite Sirius' concern that he might be missed, it's clear he won't be scampering back to the party anytime soon. It's almost impossible not to feel smugly self-satisfied at that. Sirius' fingers work themselves into the waistband of his leggings and push them down, and _this_ time, when Sirius presses against him, he is able to rub his cock against the costly fabric of Sirius' dress robes.

"I thought you didn't care what other people thought?"

"I don't. I _do_ care about what my family will do to you if anybody sees us like this," Sirius says, with a soft smile.

"Then we'd best hurry, don't you think?" There's a low, cushioned bench set into the wall, presumably for people to sit while they wait for the elves retrieve their cloaks. "Come on."

It's not easy to walk properly with his leggings only partly off and with his boots still on, but he has Sirius to lean against, and once they reach the bench, he has Sirius to fall on top of. After rather a lot more pleasant wriggling and squirming, he manages to open Sirius' robes and shove his pants out of the way.

"Oh, that feels -" Sirius starts to say, before he's kissed into silence. He lowers himself onto Sirius properly, settling between Sirius' spread legs so that they can rub against one another. "I've missed this."

"Nobody to do it with at school?"

"You know there isn't," Sirius chides, as he wraps his fingers around both of them and squeezes.

"It's been ages, though," he points out. "And I heard that this is your first appearance at a _decent_ gathering all summer," he adds. "You didn't even attend the one your parents hosted. Staying with a friend, were you?"

"Stop _talking_, Lucius," Sirius moans softly, lifting his hips up and squeezing his fingers again.

"Wasn't a _friend_, was it? Who was it, some girl?"

"I haven't done anything with any girls, if that's what you're trying to imply," Sirius says, clearly struggling to keep up with the conversation. "Mmmm, do that again." He complies, rolling his hips forward and shoving his robes out of the way – it would be much easier to remove them outright, but that would eat up precious time, time that could be better spent doing _this_ – "Ah!" Sirius screams, as Lucius pinches him and bites down on his lower lip at the same time.

"So pretty when it's red," he says, pulling away slightly and watching as blood rushes up to the bite. "Not a girl, then. Was it a boy?"

"I haven't done anything with any boys, either," Sirius replies, running his tongue over the bite.

"Really? Not anything at all?" Sirius frowns at him in confusion. "You've never studied with another boy, or shared your sweets with one, or played Quidditch with one, or -"

"I didn't mean _those_ sorts of things," Sirius laughs.

"Ooh, then what sorts of things _did_ you mean?"

"You know the sorts of things I mean," Sirius says primly.

"Yes, but I want to hear _you_ say them," he clarifies, as Sirius blushes furiously. He works his hand between their bodies again, his fingers covering Sirius'.

"The sorts of things I do with you," Sirius replies evasively, biting his lower lip while giving Lucius a crooked smile.

"What sorts of things are those?"

"_Lucius…_ You _know_ what I mean," Sirius whimpers, as Lucius removes his hand.

"Mmm, maybe I don't," his whispers, catching both of Sirius' wrists in one hand and rolling off the other boy a little so that he can press his weight forward onto Sirius' thighs to keep him from escaping. "Maybe I need you to jog my memory. After all," he continues, affecting an innocent tone that Sirius rolls his eyes at, "how am I to know what sorts of things you want me to do to you if you won't say?"

Sirius gives him an amused smile, but doesn't say anything else for a bit.

_Think you can wait me out? We'll see about that._

"I can wait all night," he says, when Sirius still doesn't say anything. Rolling off Sirius completely, he stretches out on his side while maintaining his grip on Sirius' wrists. Sirius' robe has fallen open on either side of his body, leaving a broad swathe of nakedness right down his middle. With his free hand, Lucius runs his fingers lightly over Sirius' exposed chest and down to his belly.

"You want me to beg? I won't," Sirius says, his stomach muscles jumping as Lucius trails his fingers over them.

"Oh, I think you will," he says, smiling as Sirius tries to lift his head up to see what Lucius is doing so he won't be taken by surprise again. To keep Sirius from seeing, he bends forward and kisses him again, relieved at the way Sirius opens for him eagerly. "I _know_ you will," he adds, as he moves his fingers lightly over Sirius' erection, causing Sirius to twist away from him in surprise.

"Lucius…"

"Mmm?"

"Don't tease me," Sirius says. As breathless as the words are, there is still a little too much command in his tone. "_Please_."

"What will you give me if I stop teasing?" he asks, releasing Sirius' cock and reaching for his wand. One quick non-verbal later, and his own cock is slicked and ready, but Sirius won't know that.

"What do you want?" Sirius asks at once, frowning at the loss of contact.

"I want to speak to your father," he says quickly, while he has Sirius' attention.

"You want – You must be – " Sirius sputters in shock. "I don't want to talk about my father right now!" he manages, sounding mortified.

"Worried he's going to come looking for you only to find you like this?" he asks, setting his wand down and reaching for Sirius' cock again. Sirius practically sighs as Lucius resumes the slow, soft strokes.

"_You're_ the one who should be worried."

"Me? What for? I've nothing to lose," he adds bitterly, repositioning himself so that he is stretched over Sirius, and removing his hand once more.

"You've got me," Sirius replies urgently, rolling his hips up and thrusting into empty air. "You've got _me_, you stupid – Please fuck me," Sirius says desperately. "I _said_ please." Lucius doesn't bother to move, simply raising an eyebrow in imitation of Sirius at his most haughty. "What more do you want from me?"

"I told you. I want to speak with -"

"All right. All right! I'll think of something later," Sirius promises, kicking one of his legs free of his robe and hooking it over Lucius' hips.

"Ah no, you'll think of something _now_, while I have your full attention," he says, trying not to smirk as he says it.

Sirius' kicking and thrashing have left the boy clad in nothing but the sleeves of his robes. Everything of interest – Sirius' nipples, his navel, the trail of dark hair tracking across his belly and down to his cock, and his cock itself – is marked out for Lucius in bold shades of dark pink and black against the white of Sirius' skin.

"You might speak to him about the head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement," Sirius ventures, closing his eyes in pleasure as Lucius runs his tongue over one of those enticing nipples.

"Mmm?" he murmurs, reluctant to lift his mouth away.

"You know that there isn't one. They've yet to appoint somebody, and father's particularly interested in Madam Bones getting it, so if you bring that up, you'd probably get a good twenty minutes out of him."

_Twenty minutes with Antares Black…_ That sounds good, particularly since he didn't think he'd get more than one.

"You see now," he says softly, as he slides himself down between Sirius' legs. "That wasn't so difficult, was it?" He snaps his hips forward, burying himself inside Sirius in a quick, practiced stroke.

Sirius' moaned 'gnnnnnnnh' is the only response he gets, before Sirius flexes his back and lifts up to meet him, all the while hissing, "Oh fuck, yessssssss."

"Oh fuck yes, indeed," he murmurs, abandoning all pretence of meaningful conversation as he sets his mind to fucking Sirius properly.

For all of his threats a moment ago, it's a glorious relief to be able to do this once more. And as much as he likes the idea of having Antares Black's son and heir writhing and begging underneath him, it is so much more satisfying to actually be _fucking_ Antares Black's son and heir.

It isn't long before orgasm hits them. Sirius is only sixteen, after all, and it's almost no time at all before he closes his eyes and groans breathily, coming all over himself. As for Lucius, he makes no effort to prolong the pleasure. Someone probably _will_ be dispatched to fetch Sirius back to the party if he doesn't show up soon.

"Promise me something," Sirius murmurs, as they wait to catch their breath.

"You want something _more_ from me?" he teases, pressing a kiss onto Sirius' lips and then smiling down at where Sirius has come all over himself. "That might take a few minutes."

Sirius smiles at his teasing and reaches up to pull Lucius' hair before the smile vanishes and his expression becomes solemn. "Don't ask Father about Andromeda. All right?"

"Jealous, are we?" he smirks, rolling off Sirius and stepping onto the floor. Sirius looks up at him with an odd expression on his face. "You do know that she and I were -"

"Of course I know," Sirius says, swinging his legs off the bench and wincing slightly. Lucius tries not to smile as Sirius staggers to his feet, his hair mussed, his robes crinkled, his gait unsteady and generally exhibiting every sign of having been well fucked. "Just… Don't ask after her." Sirius frowns down at his robes, before flicking his wand over himself, setting himself aright.

"Ah, but what do I get if I agree?" he asks, using his own wand to clean himself up.

"You can please yourself, then." Sirius' lips twist in amusement as he avoids Lucius' gaze, choosing instead to fuss with his dress robes. "We'd best hurry. I'm sure there're a whole host of people eager to speak with you."

He ignores Sirius as he stalks past, determined to be seen returning alone. If Antares is concerned as to his son's absence, the last thing Lucius needs is for Antares to decide – however justifiably – that Lucius is responsible for detaining Sirius.

After all… with Sirius' suggestions for how to get Antares's attention, he actually has something at stake, now.

_Something to lose._

~*~

"Have you found your table, Lucius? I suppose we'll have been seated together…"

_Just aim for the **lowest** table in the hall_, he seethes inwardly, determined to ignore Goyle as he weaves his way towards the endmost table. Even Goyle can't possibly be thick enough not to realise that in a small, select gathering such as this one, their families are _always_ seated at the back.

_I'm probably supposed to grateful that they bothered to invite me at all._

When he was younger – when Mother was still alive, and the Malfoy's were still invited to things – they were usually seated close to the high table. These days, all he can look forward to is the table that has the dubious honour of being closest to the kitchens while also being the last to be served.

_And it's not as if I'll be moving back up any time soon… _

His audience with Antares Black lasted a little longer than the minute he'd hoped for and rather a lot less than the twenty minutes Sirius said he might have. To be fair, he hadn't had an opportunity to raise the conversational gambit Sirius had suggested, but that was because they hadn't moved past the polite but pointless 'inquiring after one another's health and the health of one's family' sort of small talk before Antares made it quite clear that their discussion was over.

"Lucius! Over here," Alecto trills at him, flapping a plump hand in the direction of the empty seat next to her. He's not close enough to read the writing on the card that is balanced on his plate, but he can make out the colours of his House's crest. He sighs inwardly, glancing over the other cards around the table. Bulstrode. Crabbe. Yaxley. Goyle. Avery. Nott. He's seated at the endmost arc of the round table, so he has a fine view of the rest of the hall. Of his _betters_.

The conversation around him is deathly dull – old gossip, tired discussions, pointless chatter from a circle of families that he grew sick to death of long ago. He's far more interested in who is going to be sitting where. Fifteen minutes after he's taken his seat, and after some of the other tables have filled with guests, their host finally emerges from the drawing room, escorting Madam Black to her seat. Next to him, Antares has Violetta Mulciber on his arm, smiling charmingly at something she's said.

_If you weren't hosting this damn thing, Mulciber, you'd be at the next table along from me._

He sits up straight in his seat, looking for Sirius while trying to look as though he isn't looking. He can spot Regulus Black easily enough, sitting with the younger Barty Crouch, Alexis Wilkes, Livinia Meliflua, and Cynthia Bones. It's only then that it occurs to him that Sirius probably won't be seated at a table of children this time.

Sure enough, when he looks further along the row of tables, he sees Sirius at the third table from the top, holding Narcissa Black's chair out for her, and with a charming smile to match his father's. Importantly, none of the other guests on Sirius' table are young – evidently the Mulcibers have decided to play along with the Blacks' fancy that their son has come of age.

"You're very quiet tonight, Lucius," Estella Bulstrode says, interrupting his thoughts.

Before he can open his mouth, Lucretia Avery answers for him, suggesting that it's been a while since he's attended one of these functions, and that the 'poor dear' must be feeling overwhelmed. She's barely finished speaking before he makes up his mind that he is going to get very, _very_ drunk tonight.

"He's not the only one, of course," Lucretia twitters, undeterred. He can't decide whether she really is as brainless as she sounds, or if she's trying to make a point. "Ariadne hardly gets out these days, what with the baby and all."

"Lucius, have you seen Alecto's nephew? He's a simply _adorable_ child," Estella says, smiling shyly at him. If the unfortunate boy looks anything like his aunt, or his father, there's very little chance he's as _adorable_ as Estella seems to be insisting.

"Don't be silly, Ella! Of _course_ Lucius hasn't seen him – he wasn't at the naming ceremony, was he?"

"I had other matters to attend to that day," he says sharply, before Lucretia can go on to say that he didn't attend because he wasn't invited. "In light of recent events…" he trails off, rather than finishing the sentence.

Alecto gives him a sympathetic smile, and says, "You'll have to make up for it, then. Maybe you could come with Ella – she was going to visit us later this week. It won't be anything formal, only -" she stops suddenly, seeing something over his shoulder, and then stands up, as do the rest of them.

He turns in his seat, to see Sirius and Alexis Wilkes standing together. Sirius is wearing his usual bored smile, while Wilkes is scowling fiercely.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your evening," Sirius says, gesturing for Lucius to step away from the table. "Alexis and Regulus had a bet earlier on, so Alexis will be sitting with you tonight." Sirius refrains from mentioning that Wilkes would had to have lost the bet to be reduced to sitting with the likes of them, but with the exception of Crabbe, Goyle and perhaps Alecto, nobody at the table _needs_ to be told.

"It will be a pleasure to have him," Lucretia says, bestowing a dazzling smile upon Sirius. "But that leaves us with one too many for our table. Perhaps I could -"

" – sit next to him? I'm sure he'd like that," Sirius says, with an equally dazzling smile. "Which means I need to find somewhere for Lucius to sit…"

"Why, surely he can take Alexis' seat?" Lucretia asks, pointing to an empty seat at one of the children's tables. They're older children, senior students at Hogwarts, but children, nonetheless.

"I'm sure I'll think of something," Sirius replies, making an impatient gesture with his head to get Lucius to follow him.

"What are you playing at, Black?"

"I heard you didn't get far with Father," Sirius says, turning to face him and walking backwards as he holds Lucius' gaze. "Anyway," he continues, turning forwards again, "you don't belong down there. These things are tedious enough as it is, and if you're going to deprive me of someone interesting to talk to simply because you want to sulk and carry on, I don't see why I should have to suffer for want of entertain- "

"_I'm_ depriving you? It was hardly _my_ idea to sit all the way down at the back, when -"

"Not tonight, perhaps," Sirius whispers back, walking quickly as they stride towards the other side of the hall. "But from everything I've heard about the way you've been behaving tonight, you're not doing yourself any favours. People aren't offering their condolences about your father because they're sorry he's dead or because they like to hear themselves talk! They're doing it to let you know they're willing to give you five minutes of their time, and if you respond by _rolling your eyes_, then -"

"I did _not_ roll my eyes at your father, and - "

"As flattered as I am by your insinuation that my father is the only person here worth talking to, you're not likely to make any new friends if - Where are you going?"

"To my seat," he responds, already going in the direction of Wilkes' vacated seat and aware that some of the guests are looking up curiously.

"Don't be thick. I didn't go to all this trouble to sit you down with a bunch of kids. You're having my seat. I'll take Wilkes'."

"Your -" he starts to say, following Sirius.

He takes a proper look at the other people seated around the table. The first course is only just now starting to appear on people's plates, but Victoria Crouch is already giggling and swaying tipsily in her chair, leaning precariously against Morgan Wilkes – Alexis' father. Narcissa is seated next to Sirius' empty chair, and Edgar Bones – Amelia's brother – is on her other side. There are others he doesn't recognise, but Edgar is an extremely well known Auror, Victoria is the wife of a powerful ministry official and Morgan is a very old friend of Father's.

"Yes, mine. I'm going to get into a lot of trouble for this," Sirius points out needlessly, as Morgan frowns over to where his son has been demoted, "so you'd better make the most of it. I'll make the introductions, and then you're on your own. And -"

"Sirius -"

" - don't say I never do anything for you."

~*~

"Who are you hiding from?"

"Estella," he says, turning to face Sirius. "You?"

"Nobody," Sirius grins. "I saw you disappearing and thought I'd investigate."

It isn't disappearing _exactly_ – only that he's picked out a high-backed arm chair with its back to the fireplace, so that he is hidden in the shadows while still being able to see people as they enter the sitting room.

"So."

"So."

"Morgan's invited me to his daughter's recital."

"I'm pleased to hear it," Sirius says, smiling. "If you hadn't traded places with me, I might have ended up having to go to that. As it was, Regulus and I -"

"Sirius?"

"Mmm?"

"Did you trade seats to do me a favour, or so that you could sit with your younger brother?"

"Why can't we just leave it at that it worked out well for all concerned? Except perhaps for Alexis," Sirius adds, stifling a laugh.

"Did he try to do something to Regulus?"

Sirius is fiercely protective of his younger brother, and he has a feeling he has guessed correctly when Sirius' expression hardens.

"Ah, no," Sirius says, with a twisted smile. "Part of the arrangement was that I promised not to speak of it if he did what I asked. Besides, it was better than what he would have got if Regulus had reported him to Father instead."

"So you didn't do it just for me?"

"Oh, well, if it comes to that, Malfoy…" Sirius says, his lips curving into a genuine smile now, "I thought you'd know by now that I'm rather fond of you."

"Why is that?" he asks, aware even as he says it that he shouldn't. Sirius gives him a slightly startled look. "I mean… The rest of your family isn't. Why are you?"

As if to prove his point, a clatter of footsteps makes its way down the stairs and he looks up to see Antares appear at the doorway, with all three Lestranges in tow. He's fairly sure none of them can see him, but he keeps very, very still because it's almost as though Antares is looking directly at him.

"What are you -" Sirius starts to ask, turning to follow his gaze. Antares frowns and stalks back up the stairs, taking the Lestranges with him.

"Should you go with him?"

"No, it's all right," Sirius replies, clearly not worried. "He'd've said if he wanted me to. Go back to what you were saying before."

He can't remember what he was saying before, and instead says, "You wouldn't happen to know…"

He stops, wondering how best to continue. As ungrateful as it is, he can't help but wish that it had been Antares, rather than Sirius, who had arranged the switch of seats earlier.

He's more than fond of Sirius, and the Blacks have an excellent standing, but most of the guests present know about Sirius' blindness to background and breeding. Some know that it's even worse than that – it's not that Sirius is blind. It's that he _doesn't care_. Sirius' choice of friends at school can hardly have met with his parents' approval… The Muggle-lover, the Mudblood and the moron – although he has better sense than to call them by those names in front of Sirius – all leave much to be desired.

"What is it? Tell me," Sirius prompts, leaning forward and putting his face within inches of Lucius'.

Put another way, he doesn't want to be seen as a stray that's been taken in by Sirius' kindness. He wants Antares Black's respect, and with it, the respect of everybody else present. And he won't have that unless he mends the rift between them, and he can't do _that_ unless he knows what caused it.

"Does your father ever talk about what happened? Mine never did. In fact, just asking would be liable to get you hexed. But it wasn't always like this. You remember, don't you? Our families used to be friends."

"I remember a little," Sirius says, not needing further explanation. "And I know what changed, but I don't know why."

"You must have _some_ idea," he urges, hoping for a clue.

_Something._

Their families have intermarried for generations, he was all but promised Andromeda when they were younger, and then somehow, something went wrong and the Blacks managed to weather it, while the Malfoys fell.

"I know your father was upset when…you know," Sirius says quietly, eyeing him with concern.

"But that was before you were born," he says. He knows what Sirius is referring to. 'Upset' is an understatement. 'Furious' doesn't even come close. But in spite of all of that, their families had still been friendly…for a while. He'd even spent entire holidays staying with the Blacks. In fact, between the ages of eight and eleven, he'd practically grown up at Grimmauld Place.

"Sirius!" Both of them flinch as Cassiopeia Black descends upon them. "It's bad enough you abandoned her at dinner, but Cissy now tells me you've yet to ask her to dance," she continues, pointedly ignoring Lucius. "Come along, now."

"I'll be along in a few minutes, Mother," Sirius hedges, clearly hoping she'll take him at his word.

"_Now_, Sirius," she says firmly, reaching forward and scooping him out of his seat. "Give me you arm, yes, that's right," she says, clenching her fingers round his wrist and marching him off. Sirius turns and gives him an apologetic look. "Let's not keep Cousin Cissy waiting any longer, hmm?"

He's left to sit in the shadows with only his drink for company. Not that he's in the mood for chatter.

_It can't have been what Sirius was talking about,_ he broods to himself, sinking back into his chair and swishing his drink in its glass.

Even though he's fairly certain he managed to convince Estella and Alecto that he doesn't want to dance, he tenses when he sees a witch in very feminine dress robes make her way down the stairs, holding her skirts up to keep from tripping.

At first, he thinks that it's Narcissa, come to look for Sirius. The robes don't match what she had on earlier, but it's not unusual for people – particularly unmarried, young witches – to change for dancing.

"Sirius has gone to find you," he says, standing up and walking over to her. "Madam Black will see to it that – Auntie Seph?" It isn't Narcissa – it's Narcissa's mother.

_At last_, he thinks, watching the smile bloom on her face as she sees him, _someone who's pleased to see me_. Just then, though, her smile falters.

"I thought… You're not… Lucius?"

"I _am_ Lucius," he says, offering his arm.

"I thought…" she repeats, covering her mouth with one hand. "You look so much like Abraxas," she says, giggling apologetically as she takes his arm. "Has he come, tonight?"

"No," he starts to reply, surprised at her response.

"Well, he wouldn't, would he? He never gets invited to parties. Not since Arabella – At least, not if I'm – But you see, the funny thing was, he never liked them anyway, and I'd - "

"Auntie Seph," he says gently, ensuring that she's sitting down, "Father passed away two weeks ago."

"Oh," she says, as if she's realised something. "Oh. I heard he was sick, but I didn't think… I… I remember now," she says softly. "I read about the funeral in the paper, but… Things aren't… It isn't real if you only read about it…" she whispers.

"You could come and visit the crypt, if you like" he offers, not quite sure what to make of her response.

"No, I don't think… I couldn't," she says, glancing at him before darting her eyes away and giving another breathless laugh. "Arabella," – his mother – "was very strict about that."

This isn't the aunt he remembers. He doesn't know what she was like before she married into the House of Black, but his very early memories of her are of a slim, blonde woman who was always smiling, always laughing. Father's younger sister, even after she married into the House of Black, even after she'd been abandoned by her husband, she'd been a pleasant, fun-loving woman, full of life and laughter.

Upset, Sirius had said. Upset wasn't really the word for what he remembers of Father in the days after the news made the front page of the Prophet.

_She's been abandoned by that miscreant husband of hers,_ Father had raged. _I won't stand idly by and allow this insult to pass. I **will** not_. He doesn't remember what it was that Father had done to address the slight, but he does remember that brief period of time after Father's rages stopped. Just before Mother's crying started.

_But that can't have anything to do with what's happening now,_ he thinks, noticing that Auntie Seph has also withdrawn into silence. _That was at least five years before the trouble started_.

He'd been thirteen when Father first mentioned the trouble with the Blacks, and in particular, that the offer of Andromeda's hand had been withdrawn. Mother and Father invested considerable effort in trying to match him with a young witch from a suitable family so that their betrothal could be announced when he came of age, but to his mortification, nobody seemed interested…and when his best friend, his _then_ best friend Rabastan Lestrange, said he wasn't allowed to come and stay with Lucius for the holidays, he'd known something, _somewhere_ had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

"Auntie Seph?" He has to repeat himself before she looks up. "Are you… Are you happy?"

"Oh, happy, yes," she says, lifting a hand to her temple. "There are so many… It's… It's nice to be able to talk about things, don't you think? To be able to talk about… About anything you want. Nice."

"You can talk about anything you like with me," he says cautiously. "It's…nice that you're happy," he continues, pausing when she closes her eyes and nods her head rapidly. "Only… Only Father _wasn't_ happy when he… He hadn't been happy for a long time, and I thought that perhaps you might know why?"

"Your father, oh, well… He… He liked to talk about things, too. He could."

"I see… And what sorts of things did he like to talk about?"

"Mother?" This time, it is Narcissa. The resemblance between them is striking.

"Cissy!" Auntie Seph says with a shocked gasp, her lips curving into a surprised smile. "Didn't you say you were going to dance every song tonight?"

"Sirius left a little while ago, looking for you," he adds, hoping to send her on her way.

Narcissa looks at him as if he smells unpleasant before turning her attention to her mother.

"Mother, you're being missed in the other room."

"I was telling Lucius about your… You remember Lucius' father? He'd talk about my girls," she adds, turning back to him. "Every time we spoke, he'd ask after them. Sometimes, I think… I used to… And then we stopped speaking, but I know he thought about my daughters."

"Oh, she's raving again," Narcissa says under her breath. "Mother, you're boring Malfoy."

"Now, Cissy, that's not polite. This is Abraxas' only _son_," Auntie Seph says, reaching up to rub her temple again.

"Forgive me," Narcissa tells him, making it sound more like a demand than a request. "Mother's head is hurting her, and she needs -"

"I don't need. I don't!"

"You're embarrassing Lucius, Mother. Aunt Cassiopeia brought the bottle with her, and you'll feel much better if- Come _on_, Mother."

"He'd ask after my daughters," Auntie Seph says again, resisting Narcissa's efforts to remove her from her chair.

Perhaps she wants him to ask after her daughters?

"I saw Bella earlier, she's looking well," he says. Narcissa rolls her eyes and flings herself into a nearby chair. There's no need to ask after Narcissa – she's right _there_ after all. "I haven't seen Andromeda tonight, though. Is she unwell?"

Auntie Seph stiffens up as if she's been hexed. "No! Andromeda is a wicked, _wilful_ girl. She isn't to be spoken of. Never!" Narcissa glares at him, saying without words that this is his fault. "She's brought shame on me, on _all_ of us."

"Mother, _please_ come and take your medicine. You're upsetting yourself." Auntie Seph calms slightly as Narcissa goes over to her. "Come with me, please? You can be sure _I_ won't bring shame on you."

Auntie Seph listens to Narcissa and then starts to giggle. And then she starts to laugh, peal after peal of girlish laughter, the way she used to when he was much younger. Narcissa looks at him in alarm before starting up and pelting out of the sitting room.

"Auntie Seph," he says urgently, aware that other people are watching.

"_I_ can talk about things. Many, many things."

"That's very -"

"But I _won't_, not with you, because you're a stupid boy and you won't be told. My Abraxas wasn't stupid. Why are you stupid? You're his only _son_."

"Auntie Seph -"

"You shouldn't be stupid. But you are." At least she's stopped laughing. "So I won't tell you things. Not because I _can't_, but because you're a stupid boy and I _won't_. That's why your father was unhappy – because his only _son_ is an _imbecile_," she finishes with a shriek, her fingers clawing into the arm rests of her chair, and her hair unravelling from its elegant weave.

She seems to have worn herself out, but when he shifts in his chair, she fixes her gaze on him.

"Do you know how many daughters I have?" she asks, her voice soft and broken. "He'd ask after them, you know. Every time. Three daughters. _Three_. Three is a nice number, don't you think? My husband, he has two brothers. That makes three boys – Antares, Cepheus and Alphard. My husband, he doesn't have any sons… I tried, but I couldn't. He doesn't care, he said he was happy with girls, but then he _left_ me."

"Your daughters are lovely," he says politely, wondering if Narcissa intends to return with Auntie Seph's medicine.

"My daughters, mine, all three of them _mine_," she says, her voice breathless with laughter again. "But you're a stupid boy, so I won't tell you how many -"

"Persephone," Cassiopeia says from the doorway. "Cissy tells me your head is hurting?"

"Oh, there was no need for her to trouble you. I'm all right," Auntie Seph says, her lips squirming into a smile, and her eyes darting around the room as Madam Black approaches.

"You don't look it," Cassiopeia says baldly. "Are you overtired?" Auntie Seph says nothing in response, but he sees her tighten her grip on the chair again. "You should join us in the parlour. It's much quieter there, and you're being missed. Come, Persephone dear."

"Is she all right, Auntie?" Narcissa asks in a mortified whisper, as Auntie Seph stands up. Madam Black snatches her close, the same way she did with Sirius.

"Just overexcitement, Cissy," Cassiopeia says with a thin smile. "Come and sit with me, Persephone," she adds, leading them out.

Unlike Sirius, Auntie Seph doesn't turn to look at him as she's escorted away. She certainly doesn't struggle, and he realises that she will probably never be able to visit Father's bones. She hadn't even been allowed to attend Father's funeral… He wonders how she can possibly be happy. From everything Father told him about her, she'd been married against her will.

_Just like her namesake_, Father was fond of saying, during his cold rages. _Her husband stole her away and led her down to Hell._

Unlike her namesake, however, Persephone Malfoy had never been allowed to return.

~~*~~

_We're putting forward your name…_

He's still giddy, stumbling down the stairs of the Club and into daylight. Diagon Alley swirls around him, conducting it's usual business of selling school books, proffering potions ingredients and accommodating hordes of wizards, witches, and children – all of them carrying on as if _nothing has changed_ when, in fact, _everything_ has.

It's only been a week and a half since the ball at the Mulciber's, but he's met with more people in that week and a half than Father had met with in the six months before he became ill. And these aren't just meetings at people's houses, no, these are also meetings in the restaurant across the street from the Ministry, or in the glass-walled 'private' dining room at the Palais, or the members' enclosure at the races – all places where people go not just to be seen, but to _be seen_ to be seen.

And people _have_ been seeing him: speaking with members of some of the oldest, noblest families in England, breaking bread with them, and – most importantly of all – _being listened to_ by them. And being seen leads to more invitations, because people want to know what all the fuss is about.

It's Sirius that he owes all of this to. As grateful as he is for his recent ascension among the pure-blood families of England, he knows that Sirius will have been punished for interfering the way he did. From some of the things he's heard since that night, he has the impression that Madam Black had certain plans for the night, which were disrupted by Sirius' behaviour.

He tells himself that it's all right, because he'll soon be in a position to more than make it up to Sirius.

Really, all he'd done today was point out the self-evident, and that had led to…

_We're putting forward your name…_

"Light-fingered, unwashed and ill-mannered, the lot of them," Erasmus said. Both he and Wilkes have children at Hogwarts. "I can hardly allow Evan to take his favourite set of silver gobstones to school with him if they're going to be stolen by one of the thieving Mudbloods he's forced to share a dormitory with."

"And the Board of Governors is no better," Morgan added, with an expression of distaste. "Selena Prewett actually said that it would do them good to mix with one another."

"The trouble is, they're forgotten what it was like when they were at school," he suggested.

"Yes, that's it exactly," Erasmus said, smiling coldly. "What the Board needs is someone younger. Someone who still remembers what it was like to be at school."

"And that's why," Morgan said casually, as if it were nothing out of the ordinary, "we're putting forward your name. Dearborn's retiring at the end of next month, and it would make good sense to replace him with someone quite a bit younger, rather than someone who could only fill the position for a few years before retiring themselves."

And he hadn't heard a single thing either of them said after that, because he was still in shock – is still in shock – that two people who hadn't even bothered to respond to the invitations he'd sent them for Father's funeral are actually going to recommend him for the Board of Governors.

_We're putting forward your name…_

"Over here!"

Two boys – he recognises them from Hogwarts as Sirius' friends – are lounging at one of the tables set up on the street outside Fortescue's. On the other side of the alley, Sirius waves at them, emerging from Knockturn Alley with Potter in tow. Potter grins and holds a wrapped package aloft triumphantly, while either Lupin or Pettigrew – he always gets them mixed up – chokes on a mouthful of ice cream, and the other thumps him on the back.

"Let's have it, then," the taller one says, reaching for the package as Sirius and Potter sit down.

"Wait your turn, we're the ones that went in and got it," Sirius replies haughtily, taking the package from Potter and setting it on the table.

"Is it fresh?" the fat one asks, giving the tall one a last, absent thump on the back.

"Picked just this afternoon," Potter replies. "Wasn't all that expensive either, considering."

"Give it _here_," the tall one says impatiently, lunging across the table for it. Sirius grins and whips the package out of his reach, only to be tackled to the ground a second later. "Selfish! You couldn't even have got it if I hadn't given you my prescription."

"Help me!" Sirius yelps, as he tries to struggle free. "Stop that, you psychopath. You can have it after I've – _Ow_, do something!"

The other two join the fray, with the result that all three of them end up piled on top of Sirius while the tall one snatches the package away, peeling the wrapping apart eagerly.

_Thieving Mudbloods, indeed._ He decides that the tall one must be Lupin.

"_Accio_." The package flies out of Lupin's fingers and smacks into Lucius' palm as he walks slowly towards them. As curious as he is about the contents, he resists the urge to open the package.

"Sir, that's not -" Lupin starts to say, before he recognises Lucius.

"Not yours, is it?" he responds. "I believe it belongs to the young gentleman who appears to have vanished," he continues, managing to keep the amusement out of his voice as Sirius twists around to face him. "At least it did, before you stole it."

"I didn't -" Lupin says, as his eyes widen in shock.

"Before you _assaulted_ him, and stole it," he adds, as Sirius frowns at him.

"I didn't – We were just – It was only a game," Lupin finishes lamely.

"A game? Perhaps we should ask the Aurors and see what they have to say about this," he says, allowing himself to smile as all four of them look at the package before looking back up at him.

"Lucius, stop being a prat, and give Remus his package back," Sirius demands, somehow managing to sound haughty even though he's dressed in ridiculous, Muggle-style clothing and buried under three other boys.

Lupin climbs off and takes a step closer, as if he really believes that Lucius is going to comply, just like that. Pettigrew and Potter do the same, with Potter helping Sirius back onto his feet. There is already a spectacular bruise starting to form on the side of Sirius' face, running across the line of his cheekbone.

"I won't ask again," Sirius says impatiently, straightening himself up to his full height.

He has difficulty believing that the Sirius Black who will laugh off being manhandled by a Mudblood can be the same Sirius Black who will address another pure-blood in this manner. _And not just **any** other pure-blood_, he thinks incredulously.  
"Here," he snarls, flinging the package at Lupin. "You can be sure your Head of House will be hearing about this," he adds, as Lupin makes to walk off.

"And _you_ can be sure that if McGonagall finds out about this, so will my father," Sirius fires back, every word a threat even though it would land him in nearly as much trouble as it would Lucius. "Remus, come back, it's all right. You," Sirius continues, addressing Lucius, "apologise."

Rosier and Wilkes were still at the Club when he left, but they'll have to walk this way if they're Floo'ing home. The last thing he needs is for them to see him at the mercy of a handful of schoolboys. _A fine Governor I'd make, if all it takes is four Gryffindors to undo me._

"Right now," Sirius says, before adding, "or I'll decide that an apology isn't enough and that I want you on your knees," with a playful smile.

_Oh, you'll pay for this, Black. You'll beg and plead like never before._

"I'm sorry if I -"

"Oh, no. Not to me," Sirius says, making no effort to keep from smiling as he indicates Lupin with a nod. "Remus, I believe Lucius has something he wants to say to you." He manages to grit out an apology, determined to put an end to this as quickly as possible. "Thank you, Lucius, that was very nice. Do you think he sounded sincere, Remus?" Lupin, who is not looking nearly as alarmed as he was earlier, nods his assent. "I thought it could do with some refinement, myself."

"Sirius," Potter says. "As much fun as that sounds, there's the small matter of -" He doesn't finish his sentence, but Lupin raises his eyebrows and waves the package at Sirius. "What's the good of procuring the _freshest_ if you're going to let it go mank before you - "

"You go ahead," Sirius says, speaking to his friends while gazing at Lucius. "I'll work on Malfoy's manners for a bit."

"Are you sure?" Potter asks, frowning slightly in concern. Sirius nods without looking at him. "All right. Let us know where to find you."

"I will," Sirius says, holding his hand out for something. Pettigrew retrieves Sirius' scrip and hands it to him. Lowering his voice, Sirius adds, "And don't smoke it all without me."

"Best hurry then, hadn't you?" Potter grins, the three of them racing off before Sirius can reply.

"Well, Lucius? Where shall we go to work on your manners?"

"This way," he growls, gesturing for Sirius to walk in front of him. "There was no call for any of that," he adds, angrily. "You know I wouldn't have called in the Aurors."

"_I_ know that, but Remus didn't. You were trying to frighten him."

"It was only for fun," he points out sourly.

"It was only for fun when I did it to you, too. Not that I don't intend to have you on your knees." Sirius laughs, turning to look at him before facing forward again. "Where are we going?"

"_This_ way," he says, guiding Sirius towards the steps of the Club. As stupid as Muggle clothing is, it at least gives him a pleasant view as Sirius climbs up the steps.

Once they're inside, the squib at the entrance desk moves to stand in front of the entrance to the Club proper, blocking their way. "I'm afraid the young master cannot enter dressed as he is," she says crisply.

"I don't think you understand who it is you're speaking to," he says calmly.

She returns a look of purest derision. "I _understand_, Mr _Malfoy_, that you have not been a member here long enough to -"

"Not me, you fool," he says impatiently, gesturing to Sirius.

"Children are not permitted in -"

Sirius slips a hand into his scrip and rummages through it, finally retrieving something and showing it to her. The blood drains from her face in a most satisfactory manner once she sees what it is.

"Nevertheless, Master Black," she says, before running her tongue over lips nervously, "I cannot allow you through, dressed like that. The other members would complain."

"Then fetch me a robe," Sirius says imperiously, tucking his signet ring back into his scrip.

She scampers off to arrange something, before returning with three different robes. Sirius sets his scrip down and extends his arms, as if he expects her to put the robe on him. After hesitating for a moment, she selects a dark blue robe and helps him into it.

"What _is_ this place?" Sirius whispers, once they're finally allowed in.

"It's a gentleman's club," he says testily, guiding Sirius to the steps at the end of the corridor. "I'm not a member as yet, but I was here earlier today, so I'm free to come and go. For today, at least."

"I see," Sirius says, starting up the steps. "Remind me to leave something for the woman at the door."

"After the way she spoke to you?" he asks, startled.

"She was only doing her job."

"Is that right? Then why did you speak to her as though -"

"Because she expects it – she wouldn't have let me in for anything less. But she was only doing her job. Besides, if I _don't_ leave her something, she's apt to send the bill to my father." Sirius says, turning at the top of the steps to face him. "Where am I supposed to be going?"

"Here," he says, opening the door to the private room that Rosier had reserved for him.

"Oh, _good_," Sirius says, peeling the robe off. "I can get rid of this bloody thing. I don't even want to think about whose this is, or where they found it," he adds, letting it drop to the floor.

"I haven't thanked you for what you did for me at the Mulcibers'," he says, as Sirius looks up at him in surprise.

Now that it's just the two of them, he doesn't feel angry any more. Sirius may talk down to people because he thinks they expect it – and truth be told, he probably only gets results because they _do_ expect it – but when it's just the two of them, it's different. And if he's being honest with himself, he wasn't upset because of the way Sirius spoke to him in front of Potter and Pettigrew and Lupin just now. What upset him was that Sirius was so quick to jump to Lupin's defence.

"When I said I was going to work on your manners, Lucius, it was only to get you alone," Sirius says with a smile, setting his scrip down and lowering himself onto one of the plush, embroidered arm chairs. "I wasn't trying to imply that you hadn't expressed proper gratitude."

"I've given up trying to work out when you mean what," he says, taking a seat with a put upon sigh. "Anyway, manners or no, _someone_ has to keep you and your friends from breaking the law during the holidays."

"Oh, I see. And that's your job, is it?"

"It could be." Just like that they've come to what he's wanted to tell Sirius for the last hour. Sirius looks at him curiously, so he explains. "Caradoc Dearborn is retiring from the Board of School Governors at the end of next month. And it's been suggested -"

"You?" Sirius whispers hopefully, as if he will make it untrue by saying it aloud. He's barely started to nod 'yes' when he finds himself with a lapful of Sirius. "That's wonderful!"

"It hasn't actually happened yet," he feels it necessary to point out. Sirius ignores him, choosing instead to pull his face closer and kiss him. "They wouldn't even have brought it up, if it hadn't been for you," he adds, as Sirius' kisses move down his jaw, and towards his throat. "Sirius," he whispers, sinking back into his seat as Sirius straddles his thighs, still intent on kissing his neck. "_Sirius…_"

"Five minutes ago you were talking about not having thanked me," Sirius says softly. He wraps his arms around Sirius, rocking him gently in his lap, while Sirius continues, "You could _thank_ me right now, just like this, with you sitting there and I'll lower myself onto you, and -" He pushes Sirius away slightly so that they can talk to one another properly, but Sirius goes on before he has a chance to say anything. "Don't. Don't push me away. I'm telling you what I want. Lucius, please."

"Just like this? Tonight? Don't you need to be home by a certain -"

"Not until after midnight," Sirius murmurs, nuzzling back closer. "Oh, and I promised I'd pick Regulus up from the Crouch's at midnight on my way home, so maybe a bit earlier.. So?" Sirius asks, giving a wiggle. "What do you think?"

"I don't want you getting into anymore trouble," he says, shifting up so that his erection rubs against Sirius' bottom.

"It's far, far too late for that," Sirius says with a grin, undoing the catches of Lucius' robe.

"What happened after you went home?"

"Oh, nothing. Mother wasn't pleased with me for deserting Cissy, but Regulus threatened to scream if she punished me."

"I thought you were the one who was supposed to look after him?"

"Only when it comes to the rest of the world. When it comes to Mother, well… she can never refuse him anything. He's got me out of more punishments than I care to remember. So she seethed, but she couldn't do anything about it," Sirius says, squirming backwards so that he can undo more of Lucius' robe.

"She's going to announce your betrothal, isn't she?" Sirius stops what he is doing all of a sudden. "That's why you were seated with the adults. Because everybody needed to get used to the idea of thinking that you're of age so that they won't be surprised when the announcement is made. And that's why your mother came after you when you wouldn't dance with Narcissa, because everybody's supposed to get used to the idea of the two of you together."

"Yes," Sirius says softly, looking down at his hands.

"So, when you turn seventeen… I assume it'll be formally announced?"

"Are you _jealous_?" Sirius asks incredulously, peering at him closely. "What do you want me to do? Call it off?"

"Won't your family disinherit you? I doubt that even Regulus threatening to scream could save you from _that_."

His friendship with Sirius is worthless if the other boy antagonises his family to the point where they disown him. It's more common with pure-blood girls who are disowned and disinherited for various predictable reasons, but it's not unheard of for a pure-blood male – particularly one with a younger brother or two – to be shown the door.

Sirius, alarmingly, doesn't look the least bit concerned at the prospect. Instead, he smiles lazily as he nuzzles close again, whispering, "Oh, as to that. I suppose it shouldn't matter if I'm disinherited since I've a lover who's inherited enough to -"

"Sirius…"

"It won't come to that," Sirius says, between kissing and sucking at his chest. "They won't be pleased, certainly, but only because they'd have to waste their time trying to find us both other people to marry. _And_ they'll probably start with her, since she's nearly twenty. Stop worrying, and help me out of my clothes," Sirius demands, sitting up and stretching his arms up over his head.

"I wouldn't know where to start," he says, taking the Muggle garments in properly. "But I've one or two ideas," he adds with a smirk. One non-verbal _sectum vesti_ later, and Sirius' clothing is hanging from him in ribbons.

"Lucius! Those weren't mine," Sirius says, sounding mildly outraged.

"I can't tell you how relieved I am to hear it. The thought of you actually owning clothing like that…"

"Mr Malfoy?" It's the squib, once more, calling over the Floo. Sirius presses close to him, hiding from the green flare. "Mr Malfoy, Mr Rosier and Mr Wilkes are here, and wanted a chance to speak with you before they leave. Are you available to see them?"

"Yes, send them up, please," he replies, not bothering to move closer to the Floo.

"Thank you, Mr Malfoy, I'll let them know."

The green light dissipates, letting him know that the connection is closed. As soon as it does so, he starts to stand so he can do up his robe. This, of course, dislodges Sirius.

"You don't have to see them, do you?"

"They're the ones putting my name forward for Governor," he says regretfully. Sirius looks deliciously appealing, clad only in the few tenacious scraps of cloth that have clung to his frame after Lucius shredded his clothing, but he can't turn his nose up at Rosier and Wilkes. "I can't afford not to see them. Particularly since they've arranged this room for me."

"What do you need to see them for? You have me!"

"Put the robe back on," he says patiently, as Sirius scowls mutinously at him. "You can join us."

"Oh _can_ I? I'm ever so fucking _grateful_ for the invitation. And if you think for one minute that I'm putting that dirty robe on with _nothing on underneath_, then -"

"For me," he pleads, summoning the robe and holding it out for Sirius. Sirius rolls his eyes but complies. "They'll only stay long enough to be polite," he says, kissing Sirius' neck when Sirius allows Lucius to dress him. "And then I fully intend to spend the rest of the night -"

"What do they want?"

"It's about accommodation at school," he says, explaining the issue to Sirius while ensuring that the room is presentable.

"I can't speak on behalf of my family, Lucius," Sirius says hesitantly, sweeping the scraps of his clothing into his scrip.

"I don't expect you to," he says. Sirius is only the heir, and not the head of the house. It will be years before he has that sort of authority. "But you can speak as yourself, can't you?" Sirius continues to hesitate, and Lucius loses his temper. "For fuck's sake, Black! Is this because you're too proud to be seen speaking with the three of us? I thought you didn't care what other people thought!"

"I care about what _I_ think," Sirius snaps back. "And _I_ don't think there should be separate dorms for pure-bloods." He must look disbelieving, because Sirius looks at him and sneers. "Yes, I really believe that. Fuck, you spend so much time worrying about what my father thinks, that it hasn't once occurred to you to consider what _I_ think, has it?"

"Sirius…"

"And if _Erasmus_ is still _concerned_ about thieving _Mudbloods_, you might say to him that a thieving Mudblood couldn't possibly have made off with his son's precious gobstones, because I won them off him back in second year in a perfectly legitimate match."

There's a polite rap at the door, and he freezes.

"All right," he says eventually, his mind racing. He's not sure when it happened, but at some stage during their argument, he mercifully lost his erection. "You needn't come. Stay in the bedroom until I'm finished with them." Sirius opens his mouth, clearly intending to say more. "_Go,_" he snarls.

He races to the bathroom to ensure that he looks presentable. Apart from three or four areas that are a little red because of Sirius' enthusiastic ministrations, everything else is as it should be.

There's another knock on the door, as he walks past the bedroom. He takes a moment to ensure that Sirius isn't _too_ upset with him. The other boy doesn't look up, though. Sirius is sitting on the edge of the bed with a book open in his lap, his lips moving as he reads.

"Erasmus. Morgan," he says warmly, as he opens the door. "It's very kind of you to stop by," he says, standing back so that they might enter if they wish.

"Thank you, Lucius," Rosier says, stepping through. "Morgan and I have discussed our proposal with one or two others, and we though we'd confirm our support for your elevation while you were still in London."

"One of the points raised against you is that you are relatively unknown," Wilkes says delicately, meaning that there are many who are likely to hold him accountable for Father's actions. "Erasmus and I thought that once the appropriate mourning period has passed, you might give some consideration to allow people an opportunity to come to know you better."

Wilkes wouldn't have mentioned the 'mourning period' unless he meant for Lucius to 'allow people an opportunity to come to know him better' by hosting a function of some sort at his home.

"Won't you come in and sit down? I'll ask for refreshments to be sent up," he offers.

"Oh, we don't want to take up too much of your time," Rosier says with a polite laugh, although he takes a seat and gestures for Wilkes to do the same.

"It's no trouble at all," he insists. "I spoke with Victoria Crouch and Araminta Meliflua at the Ministry yesterday," he says, namedropping shamelessly and pleased when both Rosier and Wilkes look suitably impressed, "and they both mentioned that St Mungos is desperately overrun. I was thinking it might be time for another fundraising benefit dinner, and I'd be more than happy to organise it my- "

"What is that sound?" Wilkes frowns, standing up and looking in the direction of the bedroom. "You can't have brought a guest," he says sternly. "Perhaps you've left the wireless on?"

"I'll check," he says quickly, furious with Sirius for behaving like this.

When he gets to the bedroom, however, the windows have been thrown wide open and Sirius is in the middle of climbing out of the room and onto a broomstick that is precariously balanced on the brooms of Potter and Pettigrew – both of whom can't seem to stop _giggling_.

"…too impatient for it to burn, so he started eating it straight out of the bag, and now he's fast asleep."

"Whereas _we_ thought we'd step out for more ice cream."

"Did you save me any?" Sirius' query sets Potter and Pettigrew off again, both of them sniggering like the children that they are. Sirius turns and sees him watching. "Give my love to Erasmus and Morgan," he says, blowing Lucius a kiss. "We'll need to work more on your manners some other day."

Heaving himself onto the broomstick, and somehow managing to keep his balance when Potter and Pettigrew move off to one side, Sirius gives him one last wink and a wave before flying off into the fading, evening light.

"I beg your pardon," he says, as he returns to his guests. "Where were we?"

"There's someone we'd like you to meet," Wilkes says, looking to Rosier and waiting for his nod before continuing. "We've told him a little about you, and he's rather looking forward to it."

"Can you come with us to Little Hangleton? Tonight?" Rosier asks, looking at him expectantly. "There won't be many others. You know the Lestranges, of course. And then there's -"

He listens with rapt interest as Rosier and Wilkes speak. Sirius Black is one of the furthest things from his mind.

~~*~~

"Welcome," he says, bowing to greet the Rosiers. "Millie, it's a pleasure. You look lovely tonight," he continues, addressing Rosier's wife. He's never met her before, but to call her by anything other than first name would be overly stuffy. "And young Evan," he smiles, trying not to sound too condescending, particularly since Evan still remembers him as the House prefect from his first year at Hogwarts. "Thank you for coming," he says expansively, sweeping them across the entry way and into the ballroom.

He hasn't segregated his guests into separate rooms for men and women, because he wants to impress on his guests that he is young, and not caught up in unnecessary formality. That and, since he isn't married, he needs to speak with each of his guests personally – something he won't be able to do if the women have their own gathering.

Children, on the other hand, have the orchestra room to themselves. He's not particularly interested in anything they have to say, and having a separate room for them demonstrates that he _could_ have split the adults into two groups, if he'd wanted to.

It was quite the scramble to get the house and the grounds in adequate condition. Prior to tonight, the only rooms that were used for entertaining were the parlour and the pavilion in the garden. Unlike some of the other families, he only has three house elves, and it took a full week of bullying them to make things presentable. With Dearborn retiring at the end of August, he only has a few days to convince the right people that he should be considered the position, and two weeks after that to convince them that he should be _given_ the position.

"You've done well, Lucius," Rosier congratulates him, still standing in the entry way and skimming his eyes over the guests who've arrived so far. "Do you know if Black is attending?"

"He replied that he would," he says, hoping that Antares and his family do actually attend. He's not sure whether he wants to see Sirius or not – as entertaining as Sirius is, he doesn't make a reliable ally, and when it comes down to it, Lucius needs allies more than he needs lovers or friends.

"Our patron is particularly anxious for Antares to make a trip to Little Hangleton," Rosier says, raising his eyebrows to make it clear that he expects Luicus to read between the lines. "A proposal to have separate sleeping quarters for pure-blood wizarding children at school is one thing. A proposal to have a separate _school_ for pure-blood wizarding children, on the other hand… _That_ will only succeed with Antares's support. Too many people will wait to see what he does before they act, and the proposal won't move forward unless he leads the way."

"Is he against it? Or would he simply not act at all?"

There is a chime at the door, indicating that the last of his guests have arrived.

"That, Lucius," Rosier says, smiling as he sees the Blacks' thestral-drawn carriage round the curved driveway and pull up at the entrance, "is for _you_ to find out."

_I really should be married,_ he thinks, not for the first time, as he waits to greet the Blacks. It's strange to greet an entire family just by himself. It's also strange to have to worry about invitations, and seating arrangements, and what to serve and when to serve it. As far as he can remember, back when the Malfoys entertained on a grander scale, it was Mother who worried about all of that. Father would simply glance over the proposed guest list, remind her that someone or other didn't care for fish, and leave her to get on with it.

"Good evening," he says politely, as Antares, Cassiopeia, Sirius, Regulus and Narcissa make their way up the steps. He's surprised to see that his Auntie Seph isn't with them. "Is my aunt unwell?"

"It comes and goes," Cassiopeia tells him, with a quick, insincere smile.

"How unfortunate. Please convey my good wishes to her," he says, bowing for what feels like the millionth time that evening as he ushers them in. "Is Andromeda suffering from the same malady?" He ignores the warning look that Sirius shoots him.

"I shall tell both Persephone and Andromeda that you asked after them when next I see them," Cassiopeia replies crisply. She looks openly surprised and a little displeased when she sees the ballroom. "How nice to see so many people," she says with false levity. "So boisterous," she adds, giving it all the meaning of 'common'.

"It's pleasant to think that there are so many families that want to be able to do something for St Mungos. I believe you know Louella Dawlish? She's the Chief Healer there at present, and she'll be along at dinner to speak about the work that they do, and the -"

Sirius shifts impatiently, before catching Regulus' eye. Regulus yawns ostentatiously, belatedly remembering to cover his mouth. Antares shoots Regulus an amused look, saying, "Here, why don't you run our things down to the cloak room? If you're feeling sleepy already, it might wake -"

"I'll do it," Sirius says quickly, accepting the garments from the rest of his party. "Malfoy, could you show me the way?"

"We can continue this discussion later," Antares says, clearly expecting Lucius to go with Sirius. Even though Antares smiles politely as he says it, he's already sizing up the other guests, working out to whom he might speak with next.

"It's just at the end of the left hand corridor," he tells Sirius, pointing. "Not far from here, and not too difficult to find." Sirius' expression flickers with hurt before he turns on his heel. "As I was saying, Louella Dawlish will - " he says, turning back to Antares.

"Excuse me," Cassiopeia says ungraciously, pushing past him and taking Regulus and Narcissa with her. "I'm sure we can hear what Louella has to say once she starts to say it. Come, children."

He's not surprised by her rudeness – merely grateful that there is nobody else to see him have to endure it.

"St Mungo's problem is that they lack sufficiently qualified people in their administration," Antares says, starting towards the ballroom. "Until they address that issue, all the donations in the world aren't going to bring them to the level of functionality to be expected from a hospital of that size."

"There's a lack of sufficiently qualified people everywhere you look," he replies, trying not to look embarrassed when Antares gives him the same amused look that he gave Regulus.

It's a look that says 'I know what you're trying to do, but you haven't been _too_ obvious, so I'll play along for now'. He's determined not to raise the School Board of Governors – it would be too predictable, and Antares will already know the position is becoming available.

Instead, he remembers Sirius' advice from the other night, and says, "The head of the MLE, for example."

"That position's been vacant for quite the opposite reason," Antares says, looking mildly surprised, but for the first time, genuinely interested in what Lucius has to say. "Too many qualified people, and not enough consensus on which should have it."

He knows all of this, of course. He's done his research. But before he can say that the obvious choice is Amelia Bones, and before he can demonstrate that he knows all of the reasons why she should have it rather than Barty Crouch, or Dorcas Meadowes, or McIntosh Shacklebolt, one of his wretched house elves appears, informing him that there is a problem that requires his attention. This time, Antares Black does not bother to disguise his amusement.

When he finds that he's being led towards the cloakroom, he's certain he knows what to expect.

Once he actually gets there, though…

"You don't need me anymore," Sirius says, as soon as Lucius is in earshot. "Is that what this is all about? Is _this_ how you tell me?"

"I don't need - _You_ were the one that walked out on me the last time, if you'll recall. Perhaps you don't. Not surprising, if you smoked your way through even a tenth of that hellebore I caught the four of you -"

"You decided that speaking with your new friends was more important, if _you'll_ recall," Sirius points out icily. "You felt free enough to interfere when I was with my friends, and then when _your_ friends turned up, you decided you didn't need me anymore. What is the _matter_ with you? I refuse to support you in one piddling issue, and you decide you can disregard my advice on every other - "

"I was on the verge of following your advice about what to discuss with your father when I was called away," he explains, going over to him and stroking a hand over Sirius' hair.

"No, you weren't," Sirius says, wrenching away from him. "You asked after Andromeda after I _told_ you not to!"

"I was supposed to have married her by now," he snaps back, utterly tired of having to constantly navigate Sirius' mercurial moods. "It's the polite thing to do, which you would understand if you weren't so thoroughly blinded by your jealousy and your immature -"

"You forget yourself," Sirius whispers fiercely.

"_Don't_ speak to me like that," he whispers back. It is always like this, every single time. They spend more time arguing than anything else. "If I wanted to be set down by a haughty, little -"

"I am _not _a haughty, little _anything_," Sirius snarls. "The reason I told you not to mention Andromeda is because she's run off to marry a Muggleborn."

_Andromeda is a wicked, **wilful** girl,_ he remembers his aunt saying. _She isn't to be spoken of. _

"Mother and Father aren't pleased about it, as you can imagine. They're certainly getting tired of having people ask after her all the time. You could have stood out by being the only one not harping on about it, but instead you -"

"Have you told them that you don't want to marry Narcissa?"

He's brought it up too quickly and in the wrong context. He knows it as soon as Sirius' furious expression shifts into a suspicious one.

"You want her for yourself, do you?" Before he can answer, Sirius starts to laugh. "You really don't need me anymore. All right," Sirius says quietly, as if he's decided something. "All right," he repeats in a whisper, before turning and walking away.  
Sirius is nowhere to be found when Lucius returns to his guests. He doesn't have the opportunity to investigate further, however, because Antares seeks him out so that they can continue their discussion. More importantly, it is Antares that raises the upcoming vacancy on the School Board of Governors.

"I agree with the prevailing wisdom," Antares says, waving his drink as he speaks. "Dearborn's replacement _should_ be younger. However," he says, making an infuriating pause to take a sip of his drink, "if he's _too_ young," – another unnecessary sip – "then the other Governors are likely to view him as one of the students. _Especially_ since most of the Board is made up of former professors."

He stays silent, waiting for Antares to come to whatever it is he has to say.

"I think that impression can be mediated somewhat if the replacement were young enough to remember what it was like to be a student, but showed one or two obvious signs of maturity. A child of their own, for one thing."

"I see," he says cautiously. It is clear that Antares has someone else in mind for the position.

"And if he doesn't have a child," Antares says, swirling his drink again while looking directly at Lucius, "he would demonstrate that he intended to _have_ children sometime in the near future. By putting an end to his bachelorhood, for example. If there were strong signals that he intended to wed…"

"My designs in that regard have been thwarted so far," he says with a smile, not quite bold enough to mention Andromeda again. Particularly if what Sirius said about her is true.

"To be sure," Antares murmurs sympathetically. "Tell me. Have you had the opportunity as yet to meet my niece Narcissa?"

~~*~~

"Well, well. Sirius Black. It's only the third day of the school year, and already you've earned yourself a detention."

"Lucius? What are you -"

"Be quiet. I haven't given you permission to speak."

"_Permission_?" Sirius explodes. "My detention is with Professor Slughorn, who -"

" – is ever mindful of the wishes of the school's Governors." Sirius falls silent at that. "Nothing to say? Aren't you going to congratulate me? It's thanks to your help I find myself in such an illustrious position. Perhaps you haven't been keeping up with the latest news," he suggests, tossing a copy of the Prophet onto the table between them. "It didn't warrant as many column inches as you did when you decided to run away from home. Quite the scoop, that was. Mother's heartbreak, ungrateful son, the heir of one of Europe's most noble families disowned and disinherited. Still, my own accomplishments have attracted _some_ interest, as you're no doubt aware."

"It's a little out of date."

"Only by a matter of days, but I assure you that the news is still highly relevant."

"A matter of days? That's generous. Some of us have known for quite a bit longer that Narcissa was Abraxas Malfoy's daughter and never really a Black," Sirius smirks, tossing the paper back to him.

"_How_ long? _How long have you known_?"

"You asked me if I knew why my parents hated your father. I asked them, shortly afterwards, and they told me. They told me that Narcissa wasn't really my cousin, and that she wasn't Alphard's daughter. That was when I told them I didn't want to marry her."

"The day after the wedding, the very _day_ after, your mother told the Prophet that Narcissa was my sister, rather than my cousin. Why did she do that?"

"I haven't the faintest. Sorry. It does sound like her, though, doesn't it?"

"You could have warned me."

"I could have done a lot of things," Sirius says, with the same contemptuous smile.

He's too annoyed to reprimand Sirius for speaking to him like that. "My aunt," he says instead. "She was made to swear not to say anything, wasn't she? In case you ended up marrying Narcissa after all. Couldn't have the truth come out." He covers his face with one hand, laughing bitterly. "I can't think of anything I did to offend your parents, to deserve having them do this to me."

"I don't know why they did this," Sirius says softly. "But if I had to guess, I'd say it's because you were rising too far too fast. And that worried them, because they knew you had good reason to dislike them."

"I was never a threat to them! All I wanted was your father's respect," he spits.

"He didn't know that," Sirius says quietly.

"HE NEVER BOTHERED TO FIND OUT!" he yells, causing Sirius to wince. "He never _once_ spoke to me long enough to gauge what my motives were."

Sirius gives an elegant shrug. "I don't make the rules, Lucius. I ended a betrothal and made arrangements to leave home so that I could be with someone that I was fairly sure cared about me, and it all came to nothing."

"It doesn't have to be for nothing," he says. "Where are you staying, these days?"

"At Hogwarts."

"During the holidays?"

"At _Hogwarts_."

"What about the summer holidays?"

"That's a full year away."

"You could -"

"No."

"You've found someone else, haven't you? Who is it? Tell me."

"Lucius…"

"It's a student here, isn't it? It's no good trying to protect him – or is it a girl?"

"I told you, I haven't done anything with any girls. Or boys," Sirius adds, before he can pounce on it. "And if you need me to be clearer," Sirius says, with another twisted smile, "I haven't let another human being touch me the way you did."

"Good," he says, deciding to pounce anyway. Slughorn's desk is old and heavy, but a single incantation sends it hurtling to the end of the room. Another incantation shreds Sirius' clothing into ribbons, just like before. "_Good_," he repeats, before kissing Sirius. The angle is awkward because Sirius is seated while Lucius isn't, but that doesn't matter because of the taste of Sirius makes up for any discomfort.

"Stop that," Sirius says, pulling away, and attempting to cover as much of himself as possible with what's left of his clothing. "You've Narcissa."

"I don't. I might have married her, but your mother kindly informed the rest of the world of my wife's heritage. It shouldn't surprise you to hear that _Cissy_ doesn't do much more these days than cry." In a way he's relieved. It means he doesn't have to put up with her airs or her contempt.

"You _chose_ her!" Sirius yells, struggling to climb out of the chair.

"Sit back down this instant, or I'll bind you."

"You touch me again and I'll - "

"What? What will you do? Who will you run to? You're not really a _Black_ anymore, not since you ran away, so your parents probably won't care if I tie you down and force you. As for the school, who will they believe? The word of a notorious, troublemaking prankster against the word of a newly appointed Governor?"

"Lucius…" Sirius whispers, continuing to struggle against him.

"Stop being such a wretched prick tease, Black," he growls, charming the binds around the chair for good measure.

As soon as he feels the binds, Sirius goes limp, laughing softly. "What will you give me if I stop teasing?"

"Is that supposed to be funny?" he demands, as Sirius continues to laugh helplessly. "My alliance with your family doesn't seem to be working out so well at the moment, but I'm a patient man. Your father is a difficult person, and your mother's worse, but they won't live forever," he says with clear emphasis.

For a wonder, Sirius' laughter stops and he looks up at Lucius as though seeing him for the first time.

"And as I said," he continues, "I'm a patient man. Under those circumstances, it's eminently possible I could get the alliance I want by discussing the matter with your younger brother. If I'm boring you, you can always return to your dormitory, and I'll ask Slughorn to fetch me young Regulus instead."

"_No_," Sirius moans miserably, twisting against the bindings, which only serves to scatter the remnants of his robes to the floor. "No, Lucius, _don't_."

"You see? It appears I _do_ have something I can offer you in return," he murmurs, as he brushes away the last of Sirius' ruined clothing. _Perfect._

"Lucius…"

"And after all your carry on just now," he continues, starting to remove his own robes, "You'll need to be extremely persuasive if you want me to believe that you agree to our arrangement."

He has no doubt that Sirius will be very, _very_ convincing. Sirius can depend on his parents to protect themselves, but Regulus is another story.

He may not have the alliance that he wants with the Blacks, but that will come with time, he is sure of it. And Sirius… Sirius will be his eventually, too, his _completely_, without threats, without argument, and without question. He is the youngest School Governor, and he is respectably married even though filthy rumours abound.

"Lucius, please…"

It is more than he hoped for, and less than what he was promised.

For now, it is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> All comments and kudos are appreciated and treasured -- even (especially?) on a fic as old as this one!


End file.
